


First Night Starting

by MissLittyKitty



Series: Nights Series [5]
Category: Actor RPF, American Actor RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Humor, MissLittyKitty, One Night Only, One Night Stands, Romance, Three Nights Continued, Three Nights Lasting, Two Nights Maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 06:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4211721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLittyKitty/pseuds/MissLittyKitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did the One Night between Kacey and Jeremy start? Read here to find out.</p><p>Continuation of "One Night Only", "Two Nights Maybe", "Three Nights Lasting" and "Three Nights Continued".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite astounded myself... what started as a simple One-Shot, has turned into five parts already. Wow :)
> 
> So, thanks five times and more to my dearest Beta, Wusch!!

**Part 1**

Climbing out of the taxi, I shouldered my two bags and slowly made my way over to and up the stone steps leading to the entrance. I still couldn’t quite believe I’d actually done what I’d done and let my fingers brush against the laminated paper rectangle hanging on a lanyard from my neck. 

Several fancily dressed people were climbing the steps with me and I felt a little inadequate in my nondescript black dress and simple hair-do. Yet, I wasn’t here to impress anyone with how I looked. I was here to get the job done neither Carla nor Pete seemed to find all that important. And to maybe proof to Pete that I could be a photographer.  
I reached the entrance where a young man was standing behind something that looked like a small lectern, asking the guests for their respective tickets and checking the names off of a list. When he saw the card around my neck, discerning I was indeed not a guest but the paid photographer, his demeanor changed dramatically. 

“You’re late,” he said in a clipped tone after briefly checking his watch and before I could reply, he turned away from me lifting up a small radio to quietly talk to someone.  
‘Snotty little rat,’ I thought and would’ve loved very much to give him a piece of my mind. I’d made sure to arrive early since I wanted to get a good look at the location before it became too crowded and to see the lighting conditions to adjust the settings on my camera accordingly. So no way in hell was I late, dickhead. 

Having finished talking over the radio, he simply waved me in with an impatient hand gesture, annoyance at having to deal with me radiating off of him like heat off the sun. At least that’s what it felt like. Rolling my eyes, I walked through the massive doorway into a huge foyer, mumbling under my breath, “Yeah, yeah just think you’re better than me but you’re not, you little shit. I don’t treat people the way you do just because you think they’re inferior.” 

Inwardly still fuming, I belatedly realized that someone had chuckled nearby but when I turned there was no one there. Not one person stood close enough for me to have been able to hear his or her chuckle. With a sigh I dismissed it as a figment of my imagination and right on time, too. An older man was approaching me, dressed in the same attire as the young douche bag outside. His gaze was cool, the look on his face haughty and his bearing was exuding a sense of displeasure at having to be here. 

“Mrs. Spencer, I presume?”  
“Spencer Photography and Illustrations, yes. But I’m not Mrs. Spencer,” I clarified, receiving a nonplussed look in return.  
“I neither have the time for it nor do I really care who you are. If you are the hired photographer, come with me. If not….” He made a careless swipe with his hand toward the doorway, letting the gist of his unfinished sentence hang in the air like a heavy rain cloud and his voice had such a distinct undertone of indifference which I absolutely didn’t like. 

With a slight snort at the bewildered look on my face, he turned around and walked away from me. Heaving another frustrated sigh, I quickly followed him, understanding more and more why Carla hadn’t wanted to come here. If the staff was already displaying such gruesome behavior, what were the guests, let alone the host, going to be like? That thought made a shiver run down my back. Just my luck, deciding for once to risk something and I get this. Terrific.  
Mr. No-Time-No-Care had already reached the first landing by the time I caught up to him and I realized he must’ve been talking the whole time because I only just heard last of his sentence, “…in conversation with the guests. Mrs. Van de Ster….”

“I’m sorry but could you say that again?” I asked in the sweetest voice. “I didn’t catch that.” Fluttering my eyelashes, I put on the fakest smile I could muster. He rolled his eyes and began to climb the next flight of stairs to the left while saying, “I said that you are not allowed to interact with or engage in conversation with the guests. Mrs. Van de Ster’s instructions to me made it perfectly clear that you are only to observe and take pictures, understood?” 

Raising my eyebrows at such rubbish, I shook my head, very glad that his back was turned to me at the moment. First off, I – or well, Pete’s Studio – had been hired by Mr. Van de Ster, not his wife. And second, not that I was particularly interested to ‘engage in conversation’ with anyone but usually you couldn’t help making a little small talk here or there; especially if you were running around with a camera all night. I had no idea how anyone could think of such a stupid rule, let alone how it should be possible to follow that rule. 

We had reached the first floor and while Mr. No-Time-No-Care was still babbling away instructions to me, I let my gaze wander down to the foyer and for a moment, my breath caught in my throat. My eyes widened and I had the great desire of rubbing at them, just in case I was dreaming. The view from up here…was simply spectacular. I could see the doorway, the whole foyer in all its glory and – most amazing of all – the foyer floor. While it had looked like random shapes and patterns downstairs, it made complete sense now. It all was part of one big mosaic, depicting a blazing sun, the moon and lots of stars. 

Without thinking twice about it, my hands were fumbling with the clasp of my smaller bag and took out my camera. I put the camera strap around my neck, switching on the camera along the way, while my eyes were already scanning the grand space, trying to make out the best position from which to take the pictures.  
“What the hell are you doing?” someone hissed next to me. “Have you been listening to anything at all?”  
“No,” I replied frankly, being far too busy adjusting the settings of my DSLR.  
“Outrageous,” he nearly roared. “I will make sure Mrs. Van de Ster hears of this.”

‘Mrs. Van de Ster can go and sit in a tree,’ I thought heaving a deep sigh and quickly interjected as calmly as I could muster, “I believe I’m being paid for taking pictures, correct? So why don’t you let me start doing my job and you can get back to doing yours? And as a bonus, we stop getting on each other’s nerves, hu? Sounds like a plan to you?” And without waiting for his reply, I turned around and walked away. 

\-----

Mr. Van de Ster turned out to be a lovely old man. I bummed into him while trying to get the perfect shot of the mosaic…well, he actually kind of tripped over my legs because I was kneeling on the floor close to the balustrade. After apologizing profusely, he made me explain what exactly I was doing. Once I did, he was literally beaming, my mishap completely forgotten and he told me all about the mosaic and how it was his own design and afterward started asking me a bunch of questions about why I became a photographer. I tried to answer without lying because technically, I wasn’t one – yet. 

He then showed me to a small room, telling me to use it for whatever I needed. Before he left he assured me that I could drink and eat and mingle with the guests however I pleased, I just had to make sure that anyone who wanted to, got his or her picture taken. Otherwise I was free to photograph as I saw fit. Once he’d left, I took him up on his offer to use the room for whatever else I needed, strapping off my heels and slipping on a pair of simple black flats. I set up my notebook on a small bureau and plugged in the charger for my spare battery pack before venturing out to start doing my job. 

Contrary to what I’d been led to believe, I realized more and more that most guests were very nice, seeking me out on their own to have a picture taken and lots of them did engage me in conversation afterwards.

So, an hour and a half later, I was having a really good time, running here, taking pictures there and being stopped almost more often than I would’ve liked. I was standing in the middle of the foyer having just finished taking several shots of an older couple. 

“Oh how lovely,” the lady cooed when I showed her the pictures. “It’s so wonderful. We look like we did on our wedding day, don’t you think, Darling?” Her husband nodded, sending me an impish smile before he directed his adoring gaze once more to his wife and I felt struck with a kind of awe.  
“I’m sure Mr. Van de Ster will make them available to you if you ask him,” I replied with a smile to make them even happier. I took my leave and continued on, strolling through the crowd and taking a picture whenever I thought I had a good subject in focus. 

It was by far busier than what I had expected. Lots of finely dressed people were crowding the foyer, stairs and the first floor, filling the air with a buzz of voices and other sounds. Coming around a throng of people, I lifted my gaze and a lone figure in a corner up on the first floor caught my eye.  
She stood close to the balustrade but was partly obscured by a marble pillar, only half of her face clearly visible and one hand on the white stone almost hiding her mouth. It seemed as if she was trying to hide but not fully so. Her dark red dress hid most of her figure but when I focused the camera on her and zoomed in slightly, I was able to tell that her hair was a very dark shade of black. And she was much younger than I’d initially thought. Her face was in profile to me but still I felt as if her gaze and her mind were far away. Maybe she felt lost? Lonely? Or was she simply remembering something? Either way, I took her picture. I just had to. It was my one perfect shot for the night, I just knew. 

“Nice shot,” a male voice said directly behind me, startling me. I swirled around; trying to still the rapid beating of my heart from the fright he’d given me and I noticed his twinkling eyes with slight crinkles around the edges. I took in his fashionably rumpled hair and his brilliant smile which scrunched up his nose. And I forgot how to breathe; couldn’t even remember what I needed to breathe for. 

Holding my gaze, he motioned to the camera, repeating, “Really nice shot” and once again graced me with that infectious smile and I finally managed to stammer a thank you. And before I could ask what he was doing, he’d already stepped next to me, leaned close so that we were cheek to cheek and turned my camera upside down to snap a selfie of us. 

Somewhere in my brain his scent registered as ‘wow’ but I forced myself to concentrate on getting the picture he’d just taken on display again. Seeing the result, I burst out laughing, mostly at my own expression. 

“Goodness, “I snickered. “That’s why I usually take the picture instead of being in them. I always look like I’ve seen a ghost.”  
“Well, must’ve been a very…hot ghost this time around,” he said with a grin on his face, remarking on my deeply flushed cheeks in the picture. I turned my head to meet his gaze, feeling a tingling sensation in my stomach and despite my embarrassment, I smirked. 

“Yeah, you could be right about that,” I said and found to my amazement that my initial nervousness had been mostly replaced with a feeling of excitement. His grin softened into a smile as he asked, “So, aside from half of my face missing, what do you think of my picture taking qualities?”

“Well, probably not Lucie Award winning but considering you took it upside down without seeing what you were focusing on…it’s not a bad picture at all, Mr. Renner,” I replied. He stepped right in front of me with little regard to my personal space and fished for the card hanging around my neck.

“You wound me, Kacey McKinnon,” he told me, reading my name from the ID-Card, a slight pout on his face. “Not a bad picture my ass. And please don’t call me Mr. Renner. At least here it makes me feel way too old.” 

“Which you’re definitely not,” I said giggling and added because of his raised eyebrows, “too old, I mean.”  
“Fu…rickin’ right, I’m not,” he agreed, probably remembering where he was and winked at me, a grin on his lips before quietly saying, “So, let’s see.” And he let his gaze wander about the room, eventually pointing to the far right corner, near the stairs. 

“How about the group over there?” he asked and motioned to my camera, making me smile. I took a step back and lifted the DSLR, focusing on the people he’d just pointed out to me.  
“Yes, good one. But not from down here.” I swiveled the lens around to bring the focus to him and pushed the release switch, taking his picture before simply reaching for his hand. 

“Come on,” I told him and pulled him with me to and up the stairs to the first landing. Luckily the group hadn’t moved and I brought the camera back up, once again focusing on them.  
“What do you think?” I asked, motioning with my chin to the small screen. He studied it for several seconds then shook his head. “Better but we need to go higher. First floor? Left side?” 

“Good choice,” I said and led the way up the next flight of stairs, moving along the balustrade until I found the right position. Removing the strap from my neck, I held out the camera to him, “Go on. You called it, you take the shot.” 

I slipped around to his right side, explaining, “Zoom in, zoom out. Release” pointing out the respective buttons and switches. While he then focused on the group, handling the camera with a lot of care, I became momentarily distracted by his hands. Tanned, strong looking hands, bluish veins very visible on the backs and long fingers adorned with at least two silver rings. They were beautiful and a shiver ran down my spine as from out of nowhere an image rose up in my mind: those hands buried in my hair, me on my knees in front of him…. 

‘Oh god, Kacey, stop it!’ the rational part of my brain shouted at me and I quickly pushed that image far, far away. Looking up, I found his gaze on me and only then noticed the heat on my cheeks.  
“Everything alright?”  
“Ye…yeah,” I stammered. “I’m fine.”  
“Did you see that…hot ghost again?” he asked quietly, handing the camera back to me and as I took it from him, his hand brushed against mine, causing a surge of electricity to run through my fingers and up my arm. It quickly spread throughout my whole body and I shivered. 

“I never lost him,” I replied, biting my lower lip and briefly averting my eyes as I put the camera strap back around my neck. “I only saw him…more clearly just now.”  
His eyes were blazing, boring into mine with scorching intensity and I had to swallow. Hard. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He moved a tiny step nearer to me and I felt the minimal touch of his fingers on my back as he murmured, “A good thing then he wants to be seen…more clearly.” 

My eyes fluttered closed and a soundless sigh left my slightly parted lips before I pressed them firmly together. In an instant the image from only a few minutes ago was back in my head and a low fire was starting to burn inside me. I forced myself to keep breathing evenly and as the pressure of his fingers on my back increased a little, I opened my eyes to meet his again. The heat of his gaze had even intensified, something deeper was visible that hadn’t been there before. 

Feeling a blush blooming on my cheeks and a fierce surge of lust course through me, I needed to turn my face away from him. Had we been anywhere else, preferably a little more private, I knew I would’ve given in at that moment, regardless of having known him for all of ten minutes. But being where we were, it wasn’t a good idea at all. I had a job to do and I had better do it well; I needed to focus. 

Once more I found his eyes and offered him a small smile. His gaze softened, only a glimmer of the heat remaining and I felt his fingers lightly dig into the fabric of my dress and my skin. 

“I’m sor...,” I started but he interrupted me with a shake of his head. He removed his hand from my back and motioned to the camera, saying, “You’ve got a job to do, I know.” Smiling, he put both hands into the pockets of his dress pants and shrugged his shoulders, as if uncertain. 

And I had the sudden impulse to tell him it wasn’t because I didn’t want to; that I felt attracted to him beyond belief; but that a lot depended on my doing this job well. I felt like needing to explain the circumstances of why and how I had gotten to be here, confessing I wasn’t even a real photographer and that I was actually…well, not breaking the law but probably some rule with how I had acquired the ID card. 

Yet, he beat me to it, having seemingly made up his mind and quietly asked, “Do you mind if I keep you company for a while?” and all I had wanted to say just fled my mind.


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Of course I hadn’t minded him keeping me company. He was very nice to look at, after all and the more time we spend together, searching for further subjects to photograph, I noted that he was great to be around, too. It quickly became apparent that he had a very good eye for locations from which to spot people or groups of people to digitally capture. Additionally, I soon realized that he was very easy to talk to. He was constantly asking me questions about photography or whatever just popped into his head, never hesitating to give his opinion. And whenever something struck him as particularly funny, he wasn’t shy to share his comments with me, making me laugh every so often. I found myself loving his sense of humor and his infectious laughter. 

While his presence proofed to be quite the distraction, making it just that bit harder to really focus; at the same time – and I have no idea why because I didn’t want to impress him…well maybe a little and it does sound like an oxymoron but knowing he was near, knowing he was watching me made me want to be better; pushed me to focus just that bit more than I otherwise would’ve done. 

It probably didn’t make the pictures I took any better but it definitely changed how I felt about the work I was doing; raising the level of my own satisfaction with my work. 

When we’d moved to the ground floor where the majority of guests mingled and more people sought me out to have their picture taken, he cut himself off a little, standing to the side, observing and watching; always watching with his hands in his pockets and a mixture of a smile and a smirk on his lips.

Occasionally he was made part of the picture by people who knew him or had recognized him, calling him over to have their picture taken with him. He always obliged, smiling, staying for a little while afterwards to joke with those he knew; to make small talk with those he didn’t. And every time he was kind and charming and gorgeous and never missed a chance to stand close to me; always seeking to find my eyes to smile and wink at me, so that I soon realized that while he was being a flirt with all the ladies, he was full on flirting with me. And I enjoyed every fucking second of it. 

I’d felt drawn to him right from the start which only increased the more I saw of and learned about him. Despite his age he exuded this kind of boyish charm but there was something else, too. A touch of something darker or…untamed; just out of reach, too hard to grasp and even harder to define, making him all the more intriguing and appealing. 

I had just finished taking the picture of yet another older couple, when I noticed the battery sign on my camera was blinking with zero bars of power left. I turned the device off and lifted my head to look for him. Sure enough, I found him only a few yards away, leaning against one of the many pillars, his arms folded in front of his chest and his eyes on me. I smiled which he returned and I motioned with my hand to the upper floor, to let him know where I was going then turned and made my way over to the stairs. 

I had just reached the first floor landing when someone grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me into a corner. For a split second I thought that it was him, yet something in my gut told me it wasn’t; it couldn’t be him. And my gut turned out to be right. It had been one of the servants – Mr. No-Time-No-Care, if my harried brain wasn’t playing a trick on me – who retreated after making quite sure I’d stay put. In his place appeared a woman and only one word would come to my mind to describe her: glittering. And not, might I add, in a positive way – at least for my taste. 

Her dark blond hair was pulled up into an overbearing up-do, a crown-like tiara the final touch. Her satiny, bronze colored dress was leaving not overly much to the imagination and on her ears and around her throat rose colored diamonds glimmered and twinkled in a competition to see which ones could dazzle me more. Her whole appearance was just way too much. 

I refrained from shielding my eyes against the glare of her jewels, instead looked up to find her face. I knew at once who she was, having seen her at her husbands’ side during his welcoming speech: Mrs. Dominique Van de Ster. I guessed her to be around my age, mid-thirties, but due to the ton of make-up on her face I couldn’t be sure.   
Raising my eyebrows, I quietly cleared my throat and asked, “What’s going on?” deliberately not admitting I knew who she was. The smile she graced me with would’ve seemed fake even from a mile away. 

“Are you having a pleasant evening? Everything to your…liking?” she asked in an overly sweet voice, making my skin crawl. I just so kept myself from shuddering and inwardly debated how I should react: Version A included me acting as if I thought nothing was wrong, version B would be to call her out on her shit at once. Neither of those sounded overly appealing to me and I released a silent sigh of frustration. 

“Oh yes, everything’s going great,” I replied, forming my lips into a just as fake smile. Deciding on a mix of both versions, I added in as soft a voice I could muster, “But why don’t you cut to the chase and tell me what you really want to say?”

For a moment, my directness seemed to stun her. Then her eyes flashed angrily and narrowed, a deep scowl contorting her otherwise pretty features.   
“You’re rather rude for being a mere photographer,” she said, a slightly threatening tone to her voice and I felt myself swallow hard. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I forced myself to stay calm before telling her, “Excuse me, but I’m not the one who just roughly grabbed you by the elbow and dragged you here, am I?”

Other than with an annoyed huff, she didn’t acknowledge what I’d said but hissed, “You’re enjoying some male company a little too much tonight, I think.” And while I’d known something was up from the start, I finally realized where she was coming from and I also got the idea of where this was most likely going. Yet, I chose to not let her know that I understood and asked, “Not to be unnecessarily crass but what the hell do you mean?” 

She laughed then, probably aiming for menacing but only succeeded in sounding ridiculous. And it would’ve been quite comical if I hadn’t been at least a little worried she might have me thrown out. Fake smile and scowl gone, her expression was almost emotionless were it not for the look of contempt in her eyes. 

“Alright then, let me phrase it like this: if I see you anywhere near Mr. Renner again tonight, I’ll see to it that you’ll never get a job again, are we clear?” 

“Crystal clear, Mrs. Van de Ster,” I said with lots of emphasize on the missus. My lips formed a slight smile while my eyes shot daggers at her and I noticed my hands balling into fists with such strength that my fingernails painfully dug into the skin of my palms. Her eyes narrowed once again and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Just tell me one thing: what interest might a happily married woman like you have in him?”

I was granted a few seconds of seeing a rather panicked expression cross her face while I mentally steeled myself against the inevitable verbal attack. Unfortunately – or in my case luckily – someone chose this exact moment to step next to her. 

“Ahh, there you are, Dom…is there a problem?” 

From out of the corner of my eyes I saw Mr. Van de Ster letting his gaze travel from his wife to me and back. I was torn between feeling relieved and even more scared of being unceremoniously escorted from their villa, although Mr. Van de Ster had been more than kind to me before. But the way he now placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and taking into account he didn’t know me at all, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t listen to me. So I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I forced myself to relax, put on as real a smile as I was able to and shook my head. 

“No problem at all, Mr. Van de Ster,” I said sweetly, daring a glance at his wife and added, “I was only telling Mrs. Van de Ster what a beautiful home you have and what a wonderful event this is.” 

“Oh, very kind of you, Miss McKinnon. Very kind indeed. I hope you’re having a wonderful time,” he said, the slight confusion on his face replaced by happiness.   
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” I quickly agreed. “But if you’ll excuse me now, I really need to change my camera’s battery to continue doing my job.” 

“Of course, of course,” he replied with such an endearing smile that I caught myself awkwardly bending my knees in something resembling a curtsey before I turned and quickly walked away from them. My mind was racing a mile a minute with all that had just happened and I didn’t really look where I was going when, once again, someone suddenly took hold of my upper arm. Due to what had just happened, I flinched and shrank away from the touch, realizing too late who it was. He gazed at me perplexed, removing his hand from my arm and asked, “Kacey, is everything alright? I thought I’d lost you.” 

“I…I’m not sure. I’m sorry for shrinking away from you, I….” I trailed off because I’d made the decision to see what Mrs. Van de Ster was going to do now, seeing me with him. And sure enough, she was heatedly speaking to her husband, gesturing several times in my direction. Mr. Van de Ster nodded and with his wife by his side, he approached us with purposeful strides.

“I’ll explain later,” was all I could tell him, saw his brief nod before the Van de Ster’s had reached us. Smiling pleasantly and holding out his hand, Mr. Van de Ster said, “Forgive my interrupting, Mr. Renner.”   
“Not at all, Mr. Van de Ster. It’s a great event and such a worthy cause, too.” 

“I’m glad you approve and do hope you enjoy your time here,” Mr. Van de Ster continued, “but I’m afraid…well, again forgive me if it might sound insolent on my part but it has been brought to my attention….” Here his gaze swiveled ever so discreetly to his wife while he went on, “…that allegedly this young lady over here….” His gaze briefly turned to me, “…has been causing some…inconvenience for you. Is that true?” 

“I beg your fucking pardon!” At least, that’s what I wanted to exclaim but other than my mouth hanging open and my eyes widening, as well as my cheeks turning red from embarrassment and anger, nothing happened; nothing came out. That unbelievable and utter cow! What the hell was she playing at?  
A deep, rumbling chuckle sounded next to me; a chuckle I’d heard before and I turned my head to him just in time to hear him say, “Oh, it’s quite the other way around, isn’t it, Miss McKinnon?”

He found my eyes and winked before adding, “I believe I’ve been…inconveniencing her. But in my defense, I rather enjoy her company. I hope I haven’t kept her from doing her job too much.”   
“You haven’t.” I surprised myself with being at all able to speak. Clearing my throat, I explained, “I’ve taken about 1,300 pictures and I believe I’ve captured most guests at least twice.” 

“Ah, then all is well,” Mr. Van de Ster nearly sang and there was a distinctive sparkle in his eyes as his gaze once more sought out his wife who had averted her eyes, studying the floor beneath her feet. When Mr. Van de Ster turned back to us, his slight smile suggested that he hadn’t believed his wife in the first place but had merely acted to appease her. He nodded at me and said, “Miss McKinnon, if you could all but stay and photograph the auction which is to take place shortly, I will see the contract fulfilled. I’d be much obliged if you could send the pictures to my personal assistant in digital form at your earliest convenience.”

“I certainly will, Mr. Van de Ster. It was a wonderful opportunity for me, thank you.”   
“The pleasure, my dear, was mine,” he said and actually reached for my hand and kissed the back of it. By this time his wife had completely melted into the background and was looking at everything but us.  
“Please enjoy the rest of the evening,” Mr. Van de Ster excused himself and took his wife very firmly by the hand. For several seconds neither of us spoke and we both watched the Van de Ster’s marching off. 

“Do I want to know what all of this was about?” he eventually asked and I shook my head, felt his sideways glance at me.   
“Probably not,” I replied, sighing. “I’m not even sure I understand it.” From out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nod, an amused look on his face and we simply continued to stand there, next to each other without saying anything. 

Having finally been able to slow down my mind, I replayed the whole episode once again in my head and just then realized how ridiculous it had all been. Feeling my mouth form a smile, I revealed, “I have to say that Mrs. Van de Ster seemed very interested in you.”  
“Hmhm,” he grumbled. “That’s probably why I was invited tonight.”   
“You know her?”  
“I’ve met her,” he corrected, sighing deeply. “Once. A couple months ago, I think.”  
“That sure explains a lot,” I mumbled and added as an afterthought, “I think I need a drink.” 

“Good idea,” he agreed and stepped closer, his hand finding the small of my back. His sideways glance met mine and he smiled. “Lead the way. Oh and just for the record: it’s too bad for Mrs. Van de Ster that I’ve already got my eyes on someone else.”   
“Yeah, tough luck for her,” I breathed, a shiver running down my spine of which I was very certain he must’ve felt it. The pressure of his hand on my back increased slightly and I finally averted my eyes and led the short way to and into the room Mr. Van de Ster had assigned to me. 

I at once noticed the tray on the wooden side table, carrying two glasses and a cooler with a bottle of champagne. The door clicked shut behind me and I turned, finding his gaze on me, a smile on his face.   
“Would you maybe take care of the drinks? I’ve got to back up the pics I took and need to set up my second camera.” 

“Sure, take your time,” he replied already reaching for the bottle and a glass. I turned to the small bureau and placed my camera next to my notebook, quickly connecting the two devices. With a few clicks my notebook was copying the photos onto the hard drive and I turned to the small couch, bending down to retrieve my camera bag from next to it.   
It was then that I felt his eyes on me and when I straightened, I wound my head around to meet his gaze and blushed from the intensity of how he was ogling me. 

I noticed that he’d finished pouring the drinks and had sat himself down on the couch. Holding a glass out to me, he patted the cushion next to him and I complied, bringing the camera bag along. I took my drink from him and we clinked glasses.   
“This better taste good,” I mumbled before taking a sip and heard his chuckle, almost choked on the bubbly beverage. Wide-eyed, I found his gaze again and said, “It was you. You heard me talking to myself when I arrived.”   
“Guilty as charged,” he admitted smirking. “I bet you really wanted to say it to that little shit outside, am I right? But you didn’t. Instead you simply muttered it to yourself and I kind of liked that.” 

“God, yes, I did,” I agreed. “I so wanted to give him a piece of my mind but I didn’t want to stoop to his level. Besides, this job is more important to me.”  
“Yeah, I noticed,” he commented and added because of my apologetic expression, “and no, no need to apologize. It’s actually admirable.”   
“Thank you,” I said quietly, smiling at him which he returned.   
“You’ve got a passion about you when you’re behind that camera,” he continued. “And you’re great with the people you photograph, too. It’s…fascinating.”  
“Oh…I…ah…wow,” I stuttered, feeling as if I was beet red in the face and I had to look away from him for a few seconds. My fingers fumbled with the glass too much so that I eventually set it down on the table, afraid I might spill its contents. Finding his gaze, I tried again, “Wow. I believe I’ve never received such a compliment after knowing someone for merely two hours. So thank you. Thank you very much, Jeremy.”

He smiled brilliantly upon me using his name for the first time and in a low voice demanded, “Say it again.”   
I raised one eyebrow, a smirk appearing on my lips and I breathed, “You like me saying your name?”   
“Hmhm,” he hummed and set his glass down next to mine. He scooted a little closer on the couch and turned his body to me, leaning in to whisper into my ear, “But there’s a way or two I’d enjoy it even more.”

I almost felt his lips on my skin. His breath on my cheek made me shiver all over. And when he pulled his head back just minimally, meeting my gaze, I was mesmerized by his eyes and a nearly voiceless sigh of ‘Jeremy’ left my throat. 

“Hmm,” he grumbled, his lips only inches from mine, “that’s number one.” The tone of his voice sent another tremor through me, as I breathed, “And two?”   
“For that,” he started, his voice gravelly low, his eyes still on me, “we need to be somewhere…more private.”

Instantly, my mind transported me back to how I had felt about two hours ago and I had to swallow hard. The blush on my cheeks came back to life full force and I made myself look away from him, closing my eyes.  
“I’m sorry,” I muttered and stood from the sofa, my hand clutching the handle of the camera bag. I slowly edged my way around the small table over to the bureau, taking in slow, even breaths as I sat the bag down on the table top. 

“I’m sorry what?” I heard him ask, followed by a very slight squeak of the springs in the couch. I heard the rustling of clothes, his footsteps being mostly muffled by the thick carpet and seconds later I felt his presence behind me, his hands sliding onto my waist and his voice sounded in my ear, “You’re sorry you don’t want to? You’re sorry you can’t? Or…?”

The heat of his body seeped into mine, engulfing me and I was almost breathless as I replied, “Neither. I can but not until I finish this job. And you have no idea how much I want to.” 

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he growled and ever so slowly his hands shifted, sliding from my waist onto my stomach, pulling me closer to his body so that I was able to feel his idea. Next second I felt his lips on the side of my neck. One of his hands moved up to my breasts and I couldn’t suppress a low moan from escaping my throat.  
“You need to stop now,” I groaned, just as his other hand started to travel south. Stopping it with a shaking one of my own, I added, “I can hardly control myself as it is but I need to finish the job first.” 

I felt his rather frustrated sigh more than I heard it but he did as I asked, simply resting his chin on my shoulder and his hands settling lightly on my stomach again. My hands were still shaking a little but I managed to open the bag and take out my second camera and switched it on to check the settings. 

“You weren’t lying to Mr. Van de Ster,” he whispered next to my ear. “1,358 pictures. Not a bad job at all.”   
Finding his eyes, I replied, “Not a bad job my ass,” using almost the exact words he had earlier. He chuckled, his gaze briefly darting to my mouth and I felt him lean in. I quickly brought up a hand and placed a finger on his lips, shaking my head no, telling him, “Later. I promise.” 

Heaving another deep sigh, he backed down, turning away from me for a moment before looking at me again, another smile on his lips.   
“Well then, go kick some ass,” he proclaimed, making me giggle.   
“Don’t you mean: snap away until my fingers bleed?”   
“Whatever,” he grumbled, his eyes once again boring into mine. He took a few steps closer to me and added, “But don’t forget: as soon as you’ve got enough photos…you’re leaving with me.” 

And the rest of that night is – as they say – history.


End file.
